y were they'd have been off before this."

They strolled out to the edge of the cut and looked off across the
country beyond where the waning sunlight fell upon the dense woods,
touching the higher trees with its lurid glow. Over that way smoke arose
and curled away in the first twilight.

"There's some good timber gone to kindling wood over there," said Garry.

"It's going to blow up to-night," said Tom; "look at the flag."

They watched the banner as it fluttered and spread in the freshening
breeze.

"Looks pretty, don't it?" said Tom. "Shall we haul it down?"

"No, let the kid do it."

Garry called and the little fellow came over for the task he loved.

"Sunset," said Garry. "Now just look at his muscle," he added, winking
at Tom. "By the time this precious three weeks is up, he'll be a regular
Samson."

Garry walked a few paces down the hill with Tom. "I wish I could have
had a chance to thank Mr. Temple when he was here," he said, "for this
bully camp and that extra time arrangement."

"He deserves thanks," said Tom.

They walked on for a few moments in silence.

"You--_you_ don't think I'm a coward, do you?" said Tom, suddenly. "I
wouldn't speak about it to anyone but you. But I can't help thinking
about it sometimes. I wouldn't speak about it even to Roy--now."

"Of course, I don't. I think you were a little rattled, that's all. I've
been the same myself. For a couple of seconds you didn't know what to
do--you were just up in the air--and by the time you got a grip on
yourself--I had cheated you out of it. You were just going to dive,
weren't you?"

"Sometimes it's hard to make a fellow understand," said Tom, not
answering the question. "I can't tell you just what I was thinking.
That's my own business. I--I've got it in my Handbook. But all I want to
know is, _you_ don't think I'm a coward, do you?"

"Sure, I don't."

Garry turned back and Tom went on down the winding path through the
woods to camp. The breeze, becoming brisker, blew the leaves this way
and that, and as he plodded on through the dusk he had to lower his head
to keep his hat from blowing off. The wind brought with it a faint but
pungent odor which reminded him of the autumn days at home when he and
Roy raked up the leaves and burned them behind the Blakeley house. He
avoided this train of thought. His face was stolid, and his manner
dogged as he hurried on, with the rather clumsy gait which still bore
the faintest trace of the